Maia's Deck

First Quarter Depression

2007-02-03T17:08:00.000-08:00

It started with Faith.

No, not that kind of faith. THAT kind, I've given up a long time ago. This Faith is somewhere in Antipolo--in a secluded subdivision cum country club.

Yesterday, I woke up at 7 am, went straight to work to finish my notes for Crim recits while my former teammates travelled to Faith Academy to play two exhibition games. As I worked, and worked and worked, I kept recalling snapshots of the days we spent in Faith Academy almost five years ago.

We were excited. At the end of that school day, we waited at the MC basketball court for coach Eric to arrive. We travelled for an hour, listening to Beatles songs that we only learned to appreciate now that we are much, much, older. When we got there, we had a game. After that game, we went to the canteen to buy turon. We watched several other games, other teams, most of whom were strangers.

Snapshot 1: The curfew
Coach Eric called us in to tell us where we were going to sleep that night. Only a few of us were allowed to sleep over. We were ushered into a big room with pianos and drums. There were other players from other teams. On the floor were cushions and mats and blankets. With an air of superiority, coach told us that we had a curfew that night. The deal was this--we can do pretty much anything we liked but we had to be asleep at twelve. We laughed. We all knew that as players, we had to be asleep at 10. In fact, after a long day of excitedness, we were all too ready to retire. But not without entertainment. Bianca, from St. Benedict, who I met later on in my life, opened a piano and started playing. Her other teammates jammed with her. One of them took out a pair of brushes and used it as drumsticks. They played songs until we finally dozed off.

Snapshot 2: Game's on
We were waiting for our second game at the outdoor basketball court. On the other half of the court, Anna, Fatz, Eika, Gaby and the rest of the team were shooting around. It was a cold day in February and we had to do all that we can to keep warm. Mich and Sarah challenged me and Aj to a two-on-two ball game. I took a sip of the flavored water Tito Chito gave us. The game was on. No body really won that game. A few minutes later, Kris called us in for our pre-game huddle. Then, unlike now, we didn't have anything to talk about. No politics, no problems, no drama. We only had the ball and the court. We only had each other and somehow, that was all we really needed.

Snapshot 3: Watching out for the sunset
As we waited for the pre-game huddle, me and Eika sat at the back of the Faith gym, overlooking the soccer field. We already had our white MC jerseys on. For the first time in four years, our team donned sleeveless jerseys. Earlier that year, we haggled and struggled just to get the MC administration to allow as to wear sleeveless jerseys. The tough pricks finally gave in and allowed us. We talked about life, about where we were going. The world from our vantage point, was wide, and endless. Both of us were not ready to confront the decisions we had to make after that day. College, our future, our plans had to be put on hold. That moment, we decided to just keep quiet. "The world can wait," we thought. We'd rather watch out for the sunset.

It was the first time Faith lost their own invitational tournament. The referees were against us, we were playing against tall american girls and an aggressive audience, but at the end of that night, we were the victors.

Snapshot 4: The winning pass.

The ball bounced off the ring. It went to Aj's hands. She passed it to Sarah. Me, Eika and Corrinne started running towards the other end of the court. We had a chance to take the lead with over a minute left in the ball game and so we ran as though we haven't played two games in one day. The referees weren't giving us any breaks... hell, we weren't expecting any. In the middle of the court, Carol Tanchi, Cutts, and Davis were running down and playing defense. They didn't expect it. I didn't either. Anna was running wide, with her right hand up, signalling to Sarah. Sarah didn't even look up. It was a bounce pass, the likes of which you would never expect from anyone else but sarah--crisp, accurate, certain. The ball went past Tanchi, Cutts and Davis, with veteran precision (my guess is that the ball bounced at the exact three-fourths distance, a science that we learned as little kids). All they could do was stare in shock as Anna, our price three-point-shooter caught the ball, jumped, stopped, and released. Gesundtheit. My heart literally skipped a beat. For two seconds, the crowd was silent. Then the ball went straight in. As the net swooshed, a small crowd of less than twenty parents jumped up and down in sheer delight. On the bench, coach eric was on one knee. He punched the floor. The deal was sealed.

That shot, that win, that final highschool game, was only the cherry on top of a 52-wins-to-one-loss season. To the hundreds others who were there, that game was forgettable. To us (Clare, Gaby, Eika and Me), it was the last wave, that crashed, as all else does, into the shore. It was the blood compact that sealed our sisterhood and immortalized our ties.

The truth is, almost all of us eventually met again in College. Only a few of us, Aj and Mich in particular, went to a different school. But it was much, much different. We all became different when we started wearing scarlet jerseys. It wasn't innocence. God knows we weren't innocent then. It was our unbridled youth, and the simplicity of our lives, the time that seemed to slow when we spent it just laughing at almost anything and everything. It was our faith in a man who we worshipped like a God, a coach who at least, for that year, never really let us down.

At this moment, as I try to ignore the cases that are starting to pile up beside me, I remember all that in vivid detail. It has long since been replaced by sagacity and cynicism. But at this moment, I sit back, and relish in the fact that I had it once. Something, many of my classmates in Law School, never had.

(Note: A toast to Gaby, Clare, Eika, Mich and Sarah, for keeping the Faith alive. Our worlds now are very much different from that world of wanderlust and crazy-ass-stupid-trips. But we had it, and what makes it more important for me is that I had it with you. Ten years from now, we will be having lunch, arguing over who's gonna pay the bill. My guess is it would be Sarah, or Mich who would win. We will very briefly gloss over what happened in the last ten years--our careers, families (if any), travels, and paychecks-- and spend the rest of that day vividly recreating that world we kept tucked at the back of our minds.)

Insomiac

2007-01-09T09:07:00.000-08:00

Earlier today, Pau was complaining about insomia which kept her awake last night (well, yesterday night but just to keep it simple... of course by explaining it, it isn't as simple as when I hadn't explained it but nevertheless..). So I laughed at her and told her insomia is good for law students. I on the otherhand spent the other night (or yesterday night which ever is your preference) watching a replay of LA vs. Mavs which I saw earlier that day. Thereafter, I fell asleep, and so I spent my 4-hour break today (or yesterday) making up for the time spent doing nothing useful.

Nagdilang anghel is what my lola would call it. I prefer to think that I am subconsciously mocking myself. You would think that because I cannot sleep, I would be on my bed, one pillow propped up so I can lean comfortably, while reading my Crim reviewer. Well, I'm obviously not doing that. Instead, I'm in front of my PC, telling you about yet another evening (morning) wasted idly.

What's funny is my Crim reviewer is actually what's keeping me up. Everytime I close my eyes to try and doze off, my mind wanders off and walks aimlessly along the blurry line between consciousness and dreams. SO half my mind is thinking about the elements of crimes, while the other is thinking, 'you go to sleep and dream about this?'

I half wish now that I was dreaming about decapitated bodies. I'm thinking about checking out the crimelibrary on my lap top (at the moment I'm on the PC). I do want to try and fall asleep again, but I only have about five hours until I would have to wake up and if I do fall asleep, I would be waking up in a horrible mood.

You would think that at 1:25 am, I have something, well, "wisdomous" (as JOEY of FRIENDS would put it) to say. I obviously don't. If I did, I would have said it earlier on. Or I probably wouldn't say this now. If there are indeed bed bugs on my bed, they probably went straight to my brain and got it all muddled (is there such a word?).

Its excusable if there is none. It's always okay to make up words for stupid or ugly things. It's never okay to call a flower tilksiktiskin. Or intelligent "wisdomous." But if say I am in a state of tarstification, you would think you understand because I sound stupid at the moment, at least stupid enough to warrant such a stupid word.

You know, this insomia thing can keep me writing until 5 am. But seeing as there are already enough people writing stupid things all over the world, I am going to stop. The digital age has brought us the power of information and here I am... in a state of tarstification.

The Stars are out Tonight

2006-12-23T07:01:00.000-08:00

Lying by the shore, just staring at the black canopy lit by thousands of stars was the perfect way to usher in Christmas which had already seemed hopelessly pitiful. Notwithstanding the sense of foreboding I felt as I spent time with my former teammates, the weekend was one for the books.

As I drained cans after cans of beer, looking heavenward, I could not help but feel a sense of foreboding. Something about the stars reminded me of how fleeting that moment was, not only relative to my lifetime but to the entire universe. It was a moment that can be disregarded or forgotten in the passing of time. It was a moment which, however sentimental, is unimportant in the eyes of the billion other people I share this planet with.

Stars, I realized, may be used as a metaphor for practically anything. Last night, it was a metaphor for my loneliness which had been brought on by my being in law school.

When you stare long enough at one star, it will soon fade from your view.A person staring at the sky perhaps 10 kilometers away, or thousands of kilometers away may see the same star even if you can no longer see it. Stars do not fade then, because they are dying in a super nova as they do, but because they no longer shine for you.

To the clueless readers, this sounds like nothing but a cliche couched in the language of stars. To me, and perhaps to those who know me, this is a truth that I have been denying for the past six months. My teammates and my friends, are still the same people. They are still there. In a bitter irony, most of the time, I am actually only 2 kilometers away from them and yet I don't see them. It is not because they left but because I can no longer see them from where I am standing. Like stars, they flicker until they are too far to see but it is me who is moving away and not the other way around.

My ranting is unjustified given that I have just been reminded that my problems mean nothing to the vast universe. Though I should ask for your indulgence and permit me to carry on with trying though vainly to explain why I feel lonely tonight.

I was there with them. Right there, at the beach. Yet when I watched them gather around the bonfire, I remained seated, forcing myself to be content to watch them instead. I am guessing it was a good trade because it was then when I began to realize exactly what I am going to write tonight.

Tonight, I imagined writing, I am back where I should be. I am in my rightful place. For the next four years this is how it will be. I get to share fleeting moments with the people who actually make me feel utterly comfortable only to return to a world of hard truths which is as cold as the frigid water at dawn. I am back to my tiny office, a small four by four space which does not even have a window through which I can see the world outside.

I am back watching only the stars that the universe would permit me. Back to taking control of my life but not really living it.

The stars are out tonight but I am in my room not even bothering to look out. I know, without even looking that outside are the same old stars and none of them are the ones I want to see.

Not quite ready for christmas

2006-12-16T00:07:00.000-08:00

I'm not quite ready for christmas. With my mom away, it just doesn't feel right. Our house doesn't look as festive without the well lit Mango tree by the garden. For those who don't know, the mango tree was downed by typhoon Milenyo. It was a surprise to most of us because it had withstood many typhoons in its 30-year existence. Without it, our garden looks so empty and so open.

I haven't done any christmas shopping yet. I've given my gift to childy already, but that was only because I bought the same thing for myself.

Something's missing and I can't put a finger on it. It may just be my mom's being away. I miss her terribly but I pretend like I don't. I avoid conversations about her being away because I feel guilty that she has to leave to support our family. I'm 21 years old and I can't do anything about it. Most people my age are already working and I am still dependent on my mother who is in New Jersey, hopefully kept warm by layers and layers of sweater and socks.

Today, one of my closest friends told me that she already has a boy friend. This is a first for her and it feels strange watching her happy with just one person. It's strange because its something I can never quite understand. It worries me that I will be growing up alone as I watch my friends live their lives with their better halves. Makes me wonder if I'm feeling empty because of that. I'm probably only curious about what's on the other side of the fence. The fact that I may perpetually be alone makes me even more curious.

At the moment, I don't intend to go over the fence. I am perfectly happy just craning my neck and looking over. What worries me is when the time comes that I am the only onlooker left on the other side and everyone else have moved over. My reason for not wanting to be in any committed relationship has always been that I do not want to have responsibilities while I go after my dreams. The problem with that is when I do succeed, I would have to revel on it alone. Let's face it.... success is only half meaningful if you cannot get the approval of the people you love and respect.

On a different note, I finally got to play basketball again last week. I miss it horribly. Holding a basketball, dribbling it... I miss the feeling of competition and I can't wait until our team gets to compete. I'm probably going to get a lot of flak if I become overly competetive. I miss it so much that I really want to win so I'm going to do whatever it takes to win.

There are so many pressing issues to talk about but I guess whatever I say here will only be a rehash of ideas I picked up in school discussions regarding those issues.

This is as far as I can go. Wifi in my room might disappear suddenly.]

2006-11-26T17:09:00.000-08:00

I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend.I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend. - Destruction, Brief Lives

(I stole this quote from Ben's email. I love it.)

Too Much Time to Think

2006-11-25T17:10:00.000-08:00

"Trust" is a tricky word.

When used as a noun, it connotes reliance or confident expectation, as when you say: "I enTRUST you with my life."

When used in the context of relationships, it connotes not mere reliability but steadfastness. "I trust you," not only means "I know you will keep my secrets," but rather, "I know I can share my secrets in confidence."

The conjunctive phrase in fact, when broken down becomes, "I trust that you will be there when I need you," and "I trust that whatever I tell you remains between the two of us."

The use then, of the word trust, requires a considerable amount of nicety. It was, and is, meant to be used sparingly. We think when we say we trust someone, we gain an ally. In fact, we lose one, and the most important one at that.

"Trust," I say, is a tricky word.

When we say "I trust you," it not only connotes reliance or confidence. With trust comes a veritable amount of vulnerability in that you are thrust in the position of an expectant. When we trust someone, it means that what we trust that person with is something beyond our personal capability. Hence, we trust people with secrets because those secrets have the tendency to overwhelm us.

When we do share secrets, or in most cases, ourselves, with someone we think we "trust," we let go of inhibitions and thus expose ourselves to whomever we trust. This is the vulnerability of trust. We become reliant that once inhibitions are shed and we are exposed, someone will swoop in and cover us or shelter us.

When no one does, it is then that we realize that "trust" is but a word.

I'll say it again and never tire of it. "Trust" is a tricky word.

When A tells B he trusts B, and B is able to fulfill the expectations of A even in small degrees, B becomes seemingly heroic. To return the favor, wouldn't A want to be trusted too? So A goes out of his way to be trusted, if only to realize that B needs no saving, or B needs no hero.

A then is left in a ditch. Like a needy beggar who dreams of a world where there are no beggars, but cannot help but stretch out his arms and ask for alms.

Signing In

2006-11-19T17:59:00.000-08:00

I haven't updated this hole in... say a month. The entire sembreak, I signed in only to realize that I really have nothing to write about so I decide to just sign out and wait. That says a lot about how much fun I had during the break--or the sheer lack thereof. I couldn't (wouldn't) leave the house because I wanted to wait until my mom left for the states. That was the ice that capped my uneventful sem break. It wasn't exactly a cherry-on-top-of-the-ice cream.

I got to read about three books over the break. Two of them were good. The other was good enough to be worth my while.

On My Mom's Departure

First, I would like to take time to say that who ever created the traffic system in the airport is an insensitive git. You only get about five minutes to say good bye. What kind of airport is that? This is a country of migrant workers. They should have thought of that.

That stupid airport traffic characterizes much of my mom's departure. There was but a single wave as she carted her baggages into the unknown. It was a wave of excitement and that was all I had to look at so that I wouldn't see the hint of fear. I couldn't imagine how it must have felt when she was alone in the airplane. She has been to the States over five times in her life and yet there she was, headed to a place still unknown to her.

The repercussions Thereof

After two weeks in the States, my mom has finally settled in with tita Baby. She is comfortable there, despite the household chores she has to do. She does her share by cooking meals and I'm sure she feels at home the most in the kitchen.

A week ago my mom called to update us on her progress there. She's excited and very pleased with how much she has accomplished. Tita mila who was on the other line told me to try and look for a school in the States. They both want me to finish my studies there instead. The opportunity, I must say, is mouth watering. I can get rich there and come back and do whatever I like. The thing is, I don't really want to. Yeah... It's all about idealism. I always said that idealism is all I have. If not for idealism I wouldn't be here. I'm afraid that if I go to the states to study, all that idealism will go pfft... then there would be nothing left to set me apart from everyone else. My classmates dream of standing in front of a judge and litigating. I dream of sitting among farmers and talking about their rights. That makes me different from everyone else save from a few other idealistic dumb asses like me.

On sadness

I'm guessing you're still wondering why I signed in to write again. I have been idle for a month and I thought that my being uninspired will go on until I graduate. I don't really feel inspired now. I feel that I want the lonely joker to sign in again.

Last semester, I was so caught up with studying that I hardly felt anything. Now that I am more relaxed and at ease in law school, I have had more time to think. So, the lonely joker who stares too deeply and too much is back, and just as lonely as ever. I want to cut to the chase (cheese is more like it) and say it.

For a while I was happy to be surrounded by people I care about--classmates, friends, teammates-- until I realized that I am on a one way street. I haven't felt this lonely in so long, if truth be told. More often than not, I would probably just feel a little depressed or tired but never this lonely.

Alone is not lonely, I always say. I'd kill to be alone once in a while or alone and lonely. With all the staring deeply and too much I realized that I am lonely in spite of the people around me.

The feeling is no longer a stranger to me. The last four days I was actually feeling vulnerable. I was waiting for something to happen so that I would forget about this craphole I'm in. The four days dragged on until I finally settled in. This feeling will need a little getting used to again, I guess. But its better now because I figured it out instead of having it hit me smack in the face.

So there... The lonely joker has signed in. Until something changes, like I decide to go to the states or something, I won't be signing out.

Nowhere to go but here

2006-10-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

"She said she didn't think so, and the good thing was I didn't want to think so either."

I finally get the chance to sit in front of the computer and write. There really isn't much to write about, save for all the exams I took in the last two weeks. I want to write about emotions, about my mom leaving for the states and my grand mother leaving our home, and my other grandmother going blind. I want to write about silly things like feeling alone when all the business of law school has passed. Heck, I want to write about all the bull shit that came and went with law school.

For some reason though, I couldn't.

I guess I'm not ready to write, still.

Maybe some other time, then.

HOOKED

2006-09-22T20:02:00.000-07:00

I know I have about a million other things to do and that I would probably regret wasting the next fifteen minutes updating this hole. The truth is, this semester has brought me from the hell and back, and the finals are about to drown me again and take me to yet another trip to the fiery hole of Christian make believe. I'm scared shitless because I haven't been as diligent as I could be. I tried but the sheer volume of cases to read and reread, digest and review, they just stare at me as though they are daring me to give up. My stomach's empty and I'm in the library. There's so much to be happy about--my laptop for one, and my night out with friends--but when you know all the load of crap you ditched will catch up to you, you just have to keep the giant smile in check. Sometimes, no matter how cheesy it may seem, I just want to sit down and cry. The problem is, after being awake for hours, and after losing about a hundred hours of sleep, the tears are literally dried up.
Right now, my stomach's churning but it's probably because I haven't eaten. I rushed out of my house to get to the library and get some work done, forgot to eat my breakfast, and here I am, writing after almost a month if being idle.

Life indeed, is a big fat irony. You chase your dreams because you want to be happy, but the chase will make you sad. The question begs to be asked: what if you don't get there?

I'm here, I'm living the dream. Screw the big fat questions. Screw the ironies.
I have my laptop and that keeps me smiling for a while.
I tell myself, one day, I'm going to have enough money to keep me smiling for days on end. I'm going to buy happiness so god help me. Then, I'm going to burn all the cases that were mocking me... and burn them good.

I'm not making sense but nothing really does.

DEATH

2006-08-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

With everything that has been going on in my life, I haven't had the chance to put things into perspective. I complain, day in and day out, about how difficult life is, and about how much I miss my old self. Now, after I meet death once again, I realize that I should be happy that I am in control of whatever kind of life I have.

Death has so many sordid details that those who are left behind are left grieving. We never really know how it feels, to be released into nothingness and yet we are frightened of it, or at the very least, frightened for the people who are to confront it soon.

I, on the other hand, have often said, that there is something about the beauty of being nothing that defeats even poetry. No metaphor can ever capitulate how it is to be, at one moment, alive and meanigful, and then nothing, at the next.

Nevertheless, we take on perspectives and either fear death or confront it and live life waiting for it.

It is in times like these, when one sees other people grieving the death of their loved one that one should realize how blurred the line is between something and nothing. It is not really black and white nor dead or alive.

I look at my friend who has lost her father and I tell myself, and know for certain, that my friend will forever grieve about her loss. The things she never got to say, will be said in her mind, everytime she remembers her dad. Things she never would have said, even if given the chance. In a sense, even when the body of her dad no longer persists, the memory, has become even more alive. It cannot be touched, held, nor felt but it is more real now than it ever was for those left behind.

I probably don't make sense...
when one puts things into perspective, and tries to fit it into sentences and paragraphs, one would always fail.

Death, life, happiness... these words are but failures of semantics.

Life Philosophies

2006-07-31T08:32:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I gave a speech for KAPITAS, a Philosophy Organization of the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy. The organization celebrated its 16th year in existence and I had the honor of being one among the four guest speakers invited. In my invitation, I was informed that the set-up would be talk-show-ish so I did not prepare any speech. However, the only other person who was supposed to be the only other teen guest apart from me was unable to show up so I had to prepare an impromptu speech. A professor from the Philosophy department, A professor from the Psychology department (who incidentally, teaches Paranormal Psychology) and a junior instructor from the psychology department gave their own speeches before me. Two of them had powerpoint presentations while another had handouts. I on the otherhand was sitting in front of the audience, beside a professor forty years my senior with nothing prepared. They gave their analysis of the youth and I was tasked to speak as the representative.

Bell came up the podium to introduce me and said, "her philosophy in life is, 'Mabuhay Ka.'" Believe you me, I did not think that they would actually say that but they did and so I scrapped whatever little I had in mind and jumped off from that philosophy.

I remember saying I believed in only two things in life. One is to live life, and the other is to not hurt people. I can't remember much of what I said but the gist of it was that I want to see the youth enjoy their freedom and be able to be rowdy and carefree at one point in their lives with the expectation that they will grow out of it and be able to accept the responsibilities society has in store for them.

In the concept paper of Kapitas, the youth was defined as rowdy, uncaring and basically unrefined. I said, "well I used to be all of that."
In high school, I had the guts to literally run through the halls of my high school and scream at the top of my lungs." I made two teachers cry, made one jump onto a chair, made one storm out of a forum on vandalized encyclopedias, practically insulted all teachers in the same forum, played hide and seek at night in the sports complex, stole three bottles of 1.5 liter coke during the fair, cut classes, went to the clinic to skip classes and so much more. I'm not saying all the things I did were right but in the end, all that mattered was that I was able to own up to the things I did, pick myself up or pull myself down (depending on what you think of me) and take a big step towards my big dreams.

I am sure a lot of our politicians and lawyers were nerds in their youth but look at them now. THey are wreaking havoc whereever they are placed. Miriam Defensor-Santiago, GMA, Mike Defensor, Bunye, Raul Gonzales--all of them. I am not saying I won't turn out like them. Maybe I would. The point is though, so much of our lives are in our control and most of the time, one need not have a precise defining moment before they turn around from a rowdy to a prim and proper youth. I did not have that moment. I still am as rowdy as I can possibly be. The only difference is that now, I hurt less people and I want to help more.

My teacher once asked me if I regretted not getting honors in High School. To answer her question, I asked her if she regretted not being able to enjoy high school as much as I did.

I just found out there's no such thing as the real world, just a lie you've got to rise above.

War and Failing Logic

2006-07-26T18:21:00.000-07:00

The Israel-Lebanon conflict will not hold itself in logic. It seems as though Israel has forgotten its cause by going into an all-out war with Lebanon.

On the morning of July 12 of this year, the military arm of the political Party Hezbollah which aims to protect southern lebanon fro m Israeli occupation, killed three and abducted two soldiers. The operation was used by the lebanese military faction in order to demand for the freedom of palestinian and lebanese citizens captured by Israeli.

Israel Prime Minister has declared an all out war that is, in his own words, "very painful and so sweeping."

So sweeping it is, as even their own brains seemed to have been swept away.

The question begging to be asked is: "what are they protecting?" The answer, it would seem is, Nothing Theys seem to be protecting nothing but their pride as they allow the Hezbollah to kill even their innocent citizens. On the otherhand, Israel has fired indiscriminately, even deliberately killing 60 citizens, including children.

In the newspapers, I saw a picture of a four-year old girl looking straight into my eyes, as though begging for help. I couldn't help her. No one can. She died yesterday in the hospital, and with all the hustle and bustle going on with the war, no one even bothered to close her eyes.

War is such a sad thing especially since Israel has felt the anguish and pain caused by indiscriminate warfare during the World War II. It is even sadder if you look at the men in war, all of them look so much alike. The dead children in Israel look so much like the dead girl in the picture. Afraid and hopeless, waiting for the next rocket to be fired, wondering if this time, it will hit them and then it will all be over.

Infinite Depression

2006-07-10T02:34:00.000-07:00

Recovering from a class lecture, where my eardrums were pushed to its maximum capability, is nearly impossible. Tonight I would much rather sit in front of the computer and wallow in despair. It was not that I did not expect it. The guy was a known terror professor. Its just that I am not used to it and no amount of orientation would ever help me or anyone for that matter, prepare for a lecture of the sort.

I do not want to go into a detailed account of what happened. Suffice it to say that the 3 hours of exceedingly hostile lecture made me ask myself why I even bother. I'm a humanist. I live life to live life. It's corny, I known, and overly romanticized but the reason I decided to go into law was because I wanted to work with farmers in the province. I know that I would do them a disservice if I do not work hard in law school. What kind of help will I be if I am not prepared to face the rigors of practicing law?
Its just that as a humanist, I want to do things that will make me happy. This is not it.

The four years I would have to spend in preparation is like a big wall. I cannot see what lies behind it. I can only hazard a guess, which, I have to admit, is a dream that I built myself. What if after I break the wall or push past it, there was really nothing behind it? What if it was nothing but a dream? Nothing like ally mcbeal or ED?

The next four years would be nothing but infinite depression.
I've gone through one month of it.
Am I ready to go through more?

2006-07-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

The Lonely Joker's Doing it Again

So I was at Star Bucks this morning. I had a cup of coffee because it was raining. I love the new Peaberry blend.

Anyway, there was a bunch of Ateneo Freshies at the couch area, which was about a meter away from my table (all the better to eaves drop on you my dear).
Girl 1 (Short, mestiza, maarte, smokes): Like dude, you have smokes?
Girl 2 (Chinita, fair skinned, long hair with bangs): Na-uh. Let's go buy some smokes.

So they go buy smokes, and then smoked. Mind you, when they smoke, they do the "hithit-buga" method for the fake smokers. Anyway, when they got back...
Girl 3 (Morena, tall, slim, pony-tailed hair): My god. i can't believe you rode the train.
Girl 1: Like I know. That was a big first for me. Like dude, one time there was like a... blah blah blah...

So anyway, the girls went out to fake-smoke again and two guys replaced them on the couch. The other guy was short, sort of chinese looking. The other looked like a cute version of Sean Penn. So Sean Penn waved at girl 1 who in turn went into Star Bucks to talk to Sean Penn.
Girl 1: Whoa! (with a salute) You're in UP! Dude, that's like great!
Sean Penn: Nyeh... blah blah blah.
So they talked for a while and when the girl left, the chinese guy started talking.
Chinese guy: Do you like that girl?
Sean Penn: Hindi noh! Nakita mo ba kung gano kaarte?

Yeah. Rakenrol.

Finally, I study

2006-06-21T06:50:00.000-07:00

Finally, I find myself so challenged (by the professors and people around me) that I actually study with a break-your-neck attitude. There is always a need to be on top of the work load and not buried underneath. I've never studied as much in my entire life as I did in the last four days. ANd this is the first week of actual classroom discussion.

Sooner or later, I know that I wouldn't be able to keep up with the work load. Already, I can almost feel the readings breathing down my neck. At night I dream of Supreme Court Justices convicting me for not studying.

It's hell, and what do you know, I love it.

What Did I Get Myself Into

2006-06-17T15:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, I don't want to complain but really... what did I get myself into?
In the words of my friend, I have become what I hated the most--a stuck up. I usually don't study but with the thought of dozens of cases hanging over my head, I just can't help but. It is getting rather tiresome, to say the least, going to the library every now and now (no mistake about that) to get piles of readings that in another school and course, I most likely would not read.
The truth is, I enjoy what I am reading. I am actually learning something practical. Another truth is that none of the rather few things I learned in college is ostensibly useful. None of Kant's ethics or of phenomenological philosophies. The only things I find useful now are those of William James (Pragmatism) but that is only because, as I have repeatedly said in the last few years, I am a firm believer of pragmatism.
The thing about liking law school is that it is a huge leap from what I am used to. I am a slacker. The only times I were actually seated, doing some form of learning is in the classroom and in front of the computer at the end or in the middle of the semester. The only exceptions are those of Creative Writing classes which are, like law school, taxing (no complaints here).
Whether it is a welcome change for me is debatable. Now, I actually go to the library to study. I can sit still for five hours straight just reading and writing notes. I am adjusting to the habits that law school students have. My only wish is that I can assure myself that I will not be grade conscious, lest I earn the spite of my other classmates. I also hope that I will not become so stuck up that I would not be able to talk to my old friends anymore.
At best, I can promise myself that I am still in this for the romanticized dreams of becoming a public servant (something my parents hope to erase from my system).
At worst, I am going to speak english as often as possible, which would be irritating otherwise.

Birthday News and Blues

2006-06-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

The day before my birthday, I set out to buy myself a gift. I took out P3,000 and looked for a Audio/MP3 CD player. SO I found a cheap generic brand one from germany which did not only have an Audio/MP3 CD but also a Memory stick and Memory card drive. So I set it up in my room and left it on overnight just to see if it can withstand abuse. Turns out, it didn't. Maybe it was because the thing was generic that the CD reader stopped reading. I was a little depressed afterwards because i so rarely buy myself a gift. SO I returned it the following day and yesterday, which was my birthday, I got a refund.

Yesterday morning, my mom woke me up early because she was going to leave early and she wanted to greet me before she left. So I was a little out of sorts when I got down. I got an envelope which I thought had money inside. Instead, it had a receipt and a warranty thing-a-ma-jig inside. Then, my sister Malou told me to go to my other sister's room.It was a lame bit, I know. It really didn't work well as a surprise. Anyway, inside my sister's room was a huge box.

So, after I had to return my stupid CD player, I now have a Audio/MP3 CD Player, DVD Player, Cassette Player in my room. For a gift to myself, I am now looking for a television set.

Groovy.

In other news, my uncle who is surprisingly arrogant, accusses us of starving Lola to death and not taking care of her. I bet it was a last ditch effort to save himself from apologizing but he also warned that he will sue us for that and that he is gathering medical records. Sure... like that would hold in court. First of all, Lola chooses not to eat a lot of times before because she was afraid he blood sugar would shoot up. Second of all, she loves it here. She enjoys her time with us and she would have died earlier had it not been for the fun she has been having here. Third of all, HE almost killed Lola because he refused to believe my mom's diagnosis (congestion) and chose to believe his friend's diagnosis (pneumonia). Of course lola believed him and, two weeks later, Lola had to be rushed to the hospital again.

I cannot believe such a thing still happens in our family, 2 months before Lola turns 80. My Uncles' arrogance is so saddening. He's rich, he's educated and yet he never learned to swallow his pride. Hay.

What's up with love?

2006-05-26T05:17:00.000-07:00

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love." -Rose Walker, Sandman #65 (Neil Gaiman)

Ok, don't get me wrong. I don't hate love. A person like me should never hold anything against love as I have never been romantically involved with anyone. I believe in the lame creed, "innocent before proven guilty," and so I shall pass judgment when I wouldn't sound like a crazy lady afraid of ending up a no good, old maid with thirteen cats but a hurt and shriveled up lonely girl, left to fend off the demons of being alone.

Inexperienced as I am, I still don't understand what all the fuss is about it. Right now, I am very happy with how things are with me and the people I know. No, don't think it. I don't have commitment issues. I just think that at the moment, there are so many things I want to experience and I don't want to drag my lover into any mess that might come out of my dreams.

Yeah, yeah. "Love is love through good times and bad," but hell, we all know that unless you are going to tie the knot (somewhere around the neck of your man), that old cliche just isn't true.

I'm sure cupid (that frightening little dwarf) has reserved two arrows for me but I hope that when he shoots it, it will not leave a wound. I'm not frightened but let's face it, real love is hard to come by these days (that much I learned from watching television).

Let's say I am missing out on the chocolatey goodness that is love. Well, I'll never really know what I'm missing if I don't know what it was in the first place so screw it.

Anyway, I have to go. The people I love platonically are waiting for me downstairs.
This much I can say about love: I don't understand it and as far as I know, no one else does. Why bother?

Energy Drain

2006-05-15T20:04:00.000-07:00

If I did not love my Lola so much, I wouldn't have gone to the hospital to watch my Lola.

There is something about the hospital that is just so draining. I don't know if it's just me, so used to dirt and noise, who can't take the silence and sterility of the entire place.

I stayed up all night last night because Lola was talking in her sleep. She shifted from Ilocano to Tagalog to English so fast you would think she was speaking with several tongues. Not speaking in tongues. Speaking with SEVERAL tongues.
She even called me Santiago.

I hope she gets well soon. I love her but I seriously did not enjoy seeing her naked. She looked like a female version of Mr. Burns and I felt horribly sad to see her in such a state.

I hope I do not live until 80. My goal in life is to be able to do so many crazy and good things in life so that I can say I have lived a full life by the time I reach 60.
I have to sleep now.
Good night

Lolo jokes Part II

2006-05-08T18:49:00.000-07:00

Bata 1: Yun lolo ko pag lumalabas ng bahay, kelangan niya ng sampung minuto.
Bata 2: Eh wala ka pala sa lolo ko! Sa sobrang laki ng bahay, kelangan niya mag motorsiklo para makalabas!!
Bata 3: Talo ng lolo ko yun mga lolo niyo! Yun lolo ko, sampung taon pa bago makalabas sa tirahan niya!

Bata 1 & Bata 2: Sampung Taon?!?!

Bata 3: Nasa kulunga kasi sha eh.

Acheche..

Lolo Jokes

2006-05-06T03:31:00.000-07:00

Bata 1: Talo kayo sa lolo ko.. kaya niya magbuhat ng kotse!
Bata 2: Wala ka sa lolo ko.. kaya niya magbuhat ng bahay!!
Bata 3: Eh wala naman pala kayo sa lolo ko eh... Kaya niya magbuhat ng bundok!!!

Bata 1 & Bata 2: Hah? Bundok?!

Bata 3: Kuba sha eh!!!

Patawa!!! It was my 7 year-old cousin who told me this joke. She couldn't even finish the joke because she was laughing so hard.

Riding the Dream

2006-05-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

My friend asked me why I have not written anything about graduation or my having learned that I passed the UP LAE interview. I told her, "Well, it's the king of thing that's hard to write about because you don't know where to begin."

The reason why I haven't written anything about graduation and the UP LAE interview, as soon as I got home that day, was plain and simple. It's like when you're dreaming and you're not aware that you are. For me, it took some time before I realized that this time it was real and not just imagine. I really did go up the stage and curtsy. I did pass UP LAE and will go to law school come next school year. I did graduate from UP, a university that I only dreamt of when I was a kid. In short, my childhood dreams, my answer to the what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up question is slowly coming to fruition.

I want to write about my graduation but I am not sure if I should begin by writing about the entire journey or by simply writing about the feeling of standing in front of our college dean and receiving my fake diploma and a medal for having graduated cum laude.

If I write from the beginning, it would certainly be too long. My four years in college were, as the cliche would put it, an emotional roller coaster ride. Every event seemed to have progressed to another, rolled and balled into one day that was my graduation.

If I begin by writing about the feeling then I am sure none of you would be able to understand or sympathize. As I stood there, I did not have a "moment" as one may call it. I walked through it as gracefully as possible--mind you I had already been wearing two-inch heels for over three hours and my feet were nearly dying--and curtsied before proceeding to get my diploma. I walked towards Dean Zosimo Lee who asked me if we had seen each other in Miriam (my high school). Beside him was the Honorable Juan Miguel Luz who, as I found out in the broadsheet days later, honorably resigned after having exposed a bribery scandal in the Department of Education.

Hon. Juan Miguel Luz asked me what my plans were after graduation, and then there it was, the gnawing fear that was triggered by a question that I hoped I had an answer for. You see, before we marched to our seats, my friends told me that the results of the UP LAE interview were out. "I am going straight to Law school," I said hurriedly, so as to avoid any "where" questions that might come up which I believe my mother took care of with a brief but ambiguous answer.

Unlike many of us, I probably wouldn't have any lasting memories of my two minutes of near-fame on the stage of the UP theatre. The medal I received now hangs alongside many other medals I have received frm playing basketball for nine years. The fake diploma is probably lying in a dumpster nearby, waiting to be picked by scavengers who would sell it along with heaps and heaps of junk. The souvenir programme which, as the name implies, should have been kept as a souvenir, fell to the floor at one point during the ceremony and is now lying around in god knows where. I did not care to pick it up, what with the many things hanging on my dress--the sablay, a corsage, ribbons for the photographer--and the fear that my corset dress would burst open with all the extra weight I gained during the holy week.

The only feeling I could remember is how I was sure I have grown up and how scared it made me feel but that's the kind of feeling everyone feels when they come to the end of a long ride.

So I guess that's it. Graduation was nothing but a final twist in my roller coaster ride. It was the last upside-down loop followed by a deep plunge. Lie most roller coaster rides, you do not really remember much. You remember how you thrashed and screamed but you do not remember--and would not be able to explain--how exhilarating it was despite the nausea. If anything, you would remember that, although you did not go through the entire ride gracefully, you got off in one piece.

When you grow up and you sit down for coffee and reminisce with friends, and they laugh at you and remind you how stupid the entire ride seemed and how even more stupid you looked, your retort would be that, "It was a good thing I had the courage to take the ride."

Speaking Up

2006-04-23T02:32:00.000-07:00

"I disagree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it."
-Voltaire

For the last three months, I have seen first hand how the government has been able to curtail our civil liberties. Indeed, power can become so intoxicating that the slightest sign that it is to be taken away from those who hold it, they lash out on the innocent bystanders who have done nothing but live their lives and enjoy the freedom that they have been given.

Today, as I went to watch the very first game of the UP Lady Maroons, I did not realize that the freedom I enjoy now that I am no longer part of the team and now that I only sit and watch at the bleachers, would threaten the leadership of the team's head coach.

I guess the details of what happened are unimportant. In fact, I do not intend to rant about a person who cannot defend himself in this forum. That is not the way I work. I do not need to find allies if only to lessen the guilt I feel.

True, I do feel guilty. But that is only because I acted contrary to what I always preach. I lost my patience and did not think first. I was probably unable to set a good example for my former teammates who depend on me for advice.

The guilt however is alleviated at the thought that I fought for what I have always thought to be an essential feature of my character--I fought for my right to speak. As for the coach of the team I love, I continue to fight for his right to be heard by his subordinates, because he is in the position to. I know that some of his players have decided to let go of the friendship they once had with him but I still want them to listen to their coach because it is his right to be heard.

I told him, "I'm no longer your player," and if I were the coach, I know that I would have been hurt. But I wish that despite of the callous way I put it he would realize that my only wish is that I be treated as an equal and not like one of the pawns in his game. It is as selfish as I put it--I want to be respected. Part of the respect I expect is that I be allowed to exercise my right to speak.

I also hope that he would soon realize that he needs to stop treating his players like children because they have minds of their own and they have already formed their own paradigms with which they see the world.

IN the same light, I hope that his players realize that they have minds of their own and that the only way that they would be respected is if they learn to speak up when they feel they have been maligned. I know that they still have respect for their coach. He is, after all, a very competent coach but, to show respect does not mean they are inferiors and I hope they realize that on their own.

By and by I am sure that this too shall pass. At the moment, my emotions are a hodgepodge of sorts. I sometimes catch myself staring at the ceiling wondering whether I have done right. I am sure that in our lives we have all done something we regret but when it comes down to it, this is the sort of thing I could not regret.

So on the question of right and wrong, I think I have done something that I believe in. I am not proud of the way I handled myself but I hope that whoever hears the story (in parts or in entirety) would see past the cruel way with which I put forth my feelings and realize that as part of growing up, we sometimes need to express our autonomy and act on our own instincts.

To whomever reading this, I do not intend for this short rhetoric to sound like a disclaimer. I realize my faults and apologize for them. I hope all of you know me well enough as to be certain that what I did (although not well thought out) is something that the likes of me would do. Some might call it being stubborn, others would say it was an expression of sovereignty. As for me, I consider what happened a sign that I have graduated from being the player to being my own person.

He said, "Don't show up at practice anymore," I say that is only fair. Let him be the god in a place where he feels secure.

I wish however to properly say good bye to the players that I never had the chance to get to know. Despite of what happened, I do not love any of them less. If anything, my decision to back off and not talk to them about it made me realize how much of myself I am willing to sacrifice just so I would see them in the finals.

I could play any sport as long as they were my teammates. I hope they know that.

For Miss Charlene

2006-04-16T03:22:00.000-07:00

Hi Ma'am Charlene. I just thought you'd like this picture. :)

Bohemian Rhapsody

2006-04-12T05:39:00.000-07:00

Foot note

2006-04-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

As a foot note to whatever I said, I suggest you read the third book of conversations with God, Solitaire mystery and google William James and Pragmatism.

Holy Week

2006-04-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

According to the dictates of the Roman Catholic Calendar, the lenten season is upon us once again. While this week signifies repentance, sacrifice, etcetera etcetera, to many Filipinos, it signifies the many pretense my parents have of me.

The celebration of palm sunday is the beginning of my week-long act. As many of you already know, I am no longer a Catholic in practice. I haven't been one for the last six or seven years of my life. I choose not to go over the details of my turnaround because there was no actual turning point. There were several instances, several discoveries, several books and several insights that snowballed, rolled down the hill and bowled me over.
Sure, I believe that there is such a thing as a supreme deity but I refuse to believe that any religion offers a better way to whatever is out there. I am taking the stance of William James when it comes to believing in God. Like William James, I believe that I have more to gain than lose by believing that there is, as Thomas Aquinas would put it, a Prime Mover. Because of the "cash value" of this belief, I would have to take a "leap of faith", and use that belief as a precedent for all my actions.

As such, I believe in such things as the greater good, and thou shall not kill... but this is only because these beliefs have a greater cash value than religion.

So why do I not believe in religion?

I have weighed religion against many things in my life and for most part, everything far outwieghs religion.

True, the act of benevolence may have come from Christianity but oppression of women also has its roots in it. True, the idea of acting like a saint came from Catholicism, but idolatry came with it.

As a student of philosophy, I have therefore chosen to believe in something that fails pragmatically (which is sadly just one reason why I do not believe in being a catholic).

When I get the chance, I would probably discuss how religion fails in logic.

Sombreros and such

2006-03-28T04:39:00.000-08:00

At graduation, you wear square-shaped mortar boards. My hope is that from time to time, you will let your minds be bold and wear sombreros! - Paul Freund

One cannot deny the wisdom in that!

I remember how unsure I was as to whether I will continue with Law School and just plain stop and do the things I want to do with my life. I spent the last four years of college just doing things I never imagined to be remotely possible. I played basketball, I studied philosophy, I took up creative writing (as my minor), I auditioned and became culture editor of Sinag, I auditioned and became a staff writer of the Philippine Collegian, I went to rallies, I wrote a column to seek redress of my personal grievances against Arroyo, I voted for Roco, I climbed a mountain, I changed the tires of my car, I became an "assistant coach," I befriended strangers, I went into business, I will hopefully graduate cum laude, I passed UP Law, etc.

The thing is, when you've experienced the world, you find it rather difficult to go back inside, shut the doors, sit down and keep your nose inside the books. That was what I felt before I took the UP LAE three months ago and that's the way I feel now.

Sure, with my passing UP LAE and with just one interview in between me and Law school, I should probably be more excited. I would be if I had anything happy to look forward to there. I know there will be something good waiting for me at the end of my four-year stay in law school but I'm pretty sure that it will be a rough four years before I get there.

I know I want to become a lawyer. I want to go to the province and work for farmers and then buy a farm of my own. It's just that I'm pretty sure that in the next four years, I wouldn't have the chance to let go of myself and wear a sombrero to school.

Finally

2006-03-27T02:10:00.000-08:00

Finally, I am stepping out of college.

Sure, I still don't have my diploma and sure it is not yet in the bag, so to speak. But its barely a step away now, and I'm ready for it.

I can hear Aud Lang Syne ringing in my head. I'm marching off to...
pfft...
LAW SCHOOL.

It sucks, I know. but still. At least I have one diploma to add to my name.

RAKENROL

Civil liberties and Rebellion

2006-03-17T03:24:00.000-08:00

First it was Randy David who was arrested. Then it was Ka Beltran who had been arrested with his family, in what one may call a kidnapping done by government officials. And then five party list members, guilty of seeking redress of their grievances through peacable assemblies, remain holed-up inside Batasan, under house arrest. I thought the blatant disrespect for civil liberties will end there but then in less than a week after the lifting of 1017, Rep. Risa Baraquel Hontiveros was taken, against her will, the Camp Caringal. Vidal Querol called it protection, but I don't care. I think that Hontiveros was much willing to die in the streets than submit to the unconstitutional powers that the Police continue to invoke.
Today, Friday, March 17, Former DSWD Secretary Dinky Soliman was arrested. Whatever happened to "innocent until proven guilty?" Whatever happened to investigations? Whatever happened to their rights? What will happen to my rights.

Today, Friday, March 17 2006, I vow to protect the civil liberties my ancestors died for.
The constitution has become a mere language-game to the unduly elected government. They call it rebellion, I call it my rights. They call it inciting to sedition, I call it freedom of speech. They call it whatever they should, I call it this way: GMA must resign else, I will be in the streets until she does.

GMA RESIGN.

If it is in fact God's Plan that you are in our country, it must be for nothing but punishment. Our punishment is over, its your turn, MS President.
It's over for you.
Time to bow down to the power of the people.
Time to lay down to be slapped with your punishment.

DEFIANCE

2006-03-15T19:11:00.000-08:00

Editors Note: This was published in The Philippine Collegian on March 13, 2006

Defiance
by Sophia San Luis

"I would be happy if you could show them your solidarity and support," Cardinal Sin said of the rebel soldiers who had defected from then strongman Ferdinand Marcos at the onset of People Power I. "They have shown their idealism."

Less than an hour after the late Cadinal Sin called the people to support Enrile and Ramos who had gone to Camp Crame and Camp Aguinaldo with other rebel soldiers, multitudes of people had flocked to Edsa bringing with them food and whatever else they can afford to show their support for the rebel soldiers.

Fifteen years later, Filipinos once again rushed to the streets, this time of Ortigas, to protest the 11-10 vote of the Senate which thwarted the opening of an envelope that may have concluded the impeachment trial of President Estrada. Thousands of people had already gathered in front of Edsa Shrine by day light and, to Estrada's dismay, the number swelled to over a hundred thousand. A Philippine Collegian headline briefly summarized to prevailing sentiments of the students who bolstered the rally to success: "No Classes Until Erap Resigns."

Half a decade more, we find ourselves still adamantly protesting. This time around, we demonstrated our objection over proclamation 1017 which, according to Secretary Michael Defensor, allows warrantless arrests, takeover of public utilities and media outfits, and violent dispersals of peaceful assemblies.

Some would say that we Filipinos never learn. That history only repeats itself in our country and, time and again, we take to streets to oust a president whom we voted. They say that people Power has become an avenue for political scanvengers to grab power and ntohing more. That if only we learn to vote for leaders who will not corrupt their office then perhaps we wouldn't have to rally repeatedly.

I am not going to argue that the incumbent president still has to answer questions of legitimacy that have been thrown at her since the Hello Garci tapes were discovered. What I am going to argue is that the reason why we Filipinos take to streets time and again is not because we never learn. It is because while millions of us vote in good faith, the elected leaders still continue to blatantly misuse their office for their own personal benefits. We take to streets not to rally agains or behind a person but behind a principle that we, as Filipinos, collectively believe.

Despite the lack of honest leaders, we refuse to believe that we are helpless. We remain vigilant because, while those who hold power want us to remain powerless, our history has shown us that the democracy we enjoy lends us a power that no office can match-- the power of our people to drive away, in defiancy, anyone who would dare take it away from us.

Depressed

2006-03-04T02:53:00.000-08:00

I never thought I'd ever feel this depressed over what has become of our country. One of my professor's actually made sense when he told me that, well, "wala rin naman tayo magagawa, so why bother?"

I figured if he were right, then why should I even bother pulling myself together? It can't be for myself. It used to be that I refused to believe that there is no "bigger picture" but after I heard my professor say it so matter of fact, I thought, maybe I'm wrong and everyone else (who doesn't care) is right. Maybe there is no bigger picture. Maybe I am wrong.

I'm still depressed.

I'm supposed to write a column for kule..
Why should I bother if every moment is just that.. one moment.
Gahd.

Killing me softly

2006-02-23T16:36:00.000-08:00

God, I hope I'm not on top of the wheel as we speak. I hope the wheel doesn't turn just yet.
I'm still not over the euphoria of passing the UP LAE. Rock and Roll!!!

UP LAE

2006-02-23T05:11:00.000-08:00

I PASSED UP LAE!!!

INTERVIEW STILL TO COME

'Wow(owee) Philippines'

2006-02-07T02:33:00.000-08:00

"Its not 51 pesos to a dollar. It's 70 lives to the peso." -Sanlakas President and Laban ng Masa Leader, Wilson Fortaleza.

Such is the real state of our economy, Fortaleza said. Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum, we have Sec. Eduardo Ermita ready with a defense. His defense is, in logic, one that will lead to an epistemic regress.

“If ever there is a stampede during the Feast of the Black Nazarane or during Sinulog,
would you blame the Church and the government for poverty? How come during much bigger events, such as the congregation of El Shaddai, where thousands attend, they are properly managed by their leaders? Nothing happens like that.”

I would have to say his logic fails me. First of all, if a stampede occurs during the Feast of the Black Nazarene, we cannot blame it on poverty as, even the well to do like VP Noli De Castro goes there, despite the risk. We blame it on the millions of people's sheer devotion to the black nazarene and nothing but.
Now droves of people flock the Sinulog festival, still we do not blame it on poverty. People flock the event because they appreciate it, seeing that the event is aggressively advertised for tourists.
When some 30,000 people flock an event where cash prizes are to be given away even though the chances of winning is 1 to 10 thousand, we blame it on poverty. We blame it on the reality that the 51 to a dollar currency that the government is shamelessly parading does nothing to alleviate poverty. It is, as sen. Roxas said, nothing but a meaningless headline.
No blame should be placed in the government alone. But at the very least, what the tragedy tells us is that behind the economic growth that the government speaks of, outside the comfort that I myself admits to enjoying, thousands of people actually die trying to get out of poverty. Sure, their shot is probably less than 1 to 10 thousand, but in the present state of our country, it is a big enough shot.

NOTE: I know you're probably sick of reading about it... Had to comment though.

Out there

2006-01-30T02:45:00.000-08:00

There really is a world outside the one I chose to live in.
There is a world outside of basketball.
You only really begin to realize it when you're out there.

Just recently, I wrote an article about mining malpractices in marinduque. I never realized how much was going on until I finally stepped out of that world.

PC Cleaning

2006-01-29T03:23:00.000-08:00

Finally, our computer is free of spyware, viruses, and what have you. I spent about 2 hours installing programs. Plus, I put reminders re: PC use on the wall paper. Right now, I'm surf-shopping for a cheap lap-top. I think that would be my gift for myself when I graduate. Plus, I might work part-time in a call-center so that I can afford such a gift for myself. If I can't buy my own lap top, I'll by my own power-packed PC. I'll hook it up to the internet. And put firewire, TV tuner, DVD Rom, DVD RW.. the works. I know where I can buy it for only about P25,000. If you want to buy one... I can help you (whoever you are).

I have been attending the training of the UP team again lately. I figured, if they need my help, I should help. I can see why they need help. They need an adult in the court. The kids are well, kids.

I swear, when I purchase my own lap top or my own computer.... I'd update more often. I just finished an article for the PHilippine Collegian, plus my short story so I'm practically dried up.

A little bit crazy, a little bit blah

2006-01-08T05:03:00.000-08:00

I remembered just now that my friend's sister can unwittingly flash a bad sign. Yup. That's what the world has come to.

Right now, I'm reading Atlas Shrugged. It must be some sort of record for me to even get through 258 boring pages in two days. I think I still have over 600 pages left. I swear to got, the detailed description of everything that's going on, even those things inside the character's mind, its boring. But the general direction of the novel is interesting.

So who IS John Galt?

He was the man who tried to stop the world and did.

I wish I'd be done reading before I have to begin writing my Collegian article.

Writing overload

2006-01-06T04:30:00.000-08:00

I remember how when I was starting out, I often complained about writer's block. Now, the ideas are practically shoved up my throat and I have no choice but to write them.

So for The Philippine Collegian I have to write about Marinduque mining thing-a-majig. No idea yet but I guess I could say I'm looking forward to it because its something foreign.

Then there's my Bioehtics thesis. My Thesis professor is good in that he actually replies to my questions regarding the thesis and he gives me advice. When it comes to writing however, its a bit sloppy work. I just by march, I'd be ready to write a full-length thesis.

My thesis question is: Who has the right to decide if life-prolonging treatment is taken off, in the context of terminal illness.
To other people, this sounds like a very difficult topic. Too much specificity can hurt sometimes. But because my mom happens to be an expert on this (Note: My mom is a Palliative Care Specialist), I practically have all the reading materials I would need. The trouble with that is it is rather difficult to demarcate relevant from irrelevant information, especially for a topic as alien as this.

I'll start writing my short story soon. I'm thinking about really probinsyana and probinsyano names.

If I die of boredom, what would become of my Eulogy?

2006-01-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

Seriously, I have been racking my brain just to find a near-decent theme for my Creative Writing 110 (Fiction). I don't want to write a "quiet" story. I want something hilarious. So I try. I write about this family who goes to a house on a Christmas morning and watch the HBO docu-fiction Asteroid. The family panics upon watching it, frightened for the lives of their relatives in the US where the Asteroid first hit. The family calls up relatives who then calls their other relatives LONG DISTANCE. The mother pages the father who was not there, and she tells pocketbell about the breaking news. Pocketbell, frightened that they might be the last to send the news out send it without confirmation. After 1 hour, the mother gets a message from the friend they just visited that the show has ended and what they were watching was HBO.
Its hilarious, really. The problem is, it only has one level. So now, I don't know if I'd go with the quiet version of the story which is:

A Carnival owner in Pangasinan buys a new cable ready TV using the Christmas bonus of his carnival workers. He confides with his favorite, the motorcycle man, and the motorcycle man told him that no one would buy his reasons for buying the TV unless he allows the workers to watch for another two hours before the carnival opens and after everything is set for the night. The owner agreed. Previously, the setup was that the workers were allowed to watch the first part of Wowowee for siesta. Now, the workers were allowed to watch from 12-1:30 and 4-6, depending on whether all rides and booths are ready for the night.
The day after christmas eve, at noon, motorcycle man comes into the owners office to watch. Everyone came in late, one by one, lazy after such a long midnight celebration. They were shocked at what they saw: Motorcycle man had not changed the channel because he chanced upon the docu-fiction ASTEROID. He thought it was true. He did not know what HBO was.
Each person's perspective changes because of the show. The snake woman runs home to her family to tell them of the news. The family goes to the carnival to watch.
The mermaid who was cleaning her mermaids tail, throws the brush to the wall and realizes that she shouldn't play people for fools. The carnival owner hands out the christmas bonus, admitting to everyone that he had bought the television for a measly P1,500 from a member of an akyat bahay gang. The motorcycle man recalls how once, he had a chance to study in Manila, when his father was still working as a barber and his mother was a cook at a school cafeteria but he decided he wanted to become a motocross racer like monching de leon. He never got that far so he ended up as a motorcycle exhibitionist at the carnival.
Lenita, who has been bothered by a lump near her groin finally summons the courage to tell her son and to retire from working at the ticket booth.
Makoy, a burly man of 53 cries for the first time since she lost his wife and his daughter who died in a fire almost three years before. Both had been maids in a house at a subdivision. He regretted being unable to support his only family.

At the end they find out that it had been a docu-fiction but none of them, even Makoy the clown could laugh. No one ever thought that such a possibility existed and now, on Christmas, the possibility gripped them by the shoulders and shook them.

At the end, everyone walked away from the Carnival, and decided they should have enjoyed life.
The irony that I want to send out is that all of them worked at a carnival but none of them truly enjoyed life. The carnival symbolised what a factory symbolised to a factory line worker: A deeply dug hole with no way out. The Asteroid was their only chance to walk away, realizing that no matter how secure they become with the routine of their lives, they still walk through it blindly.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

2005-12-18T05:49:00.001-08:00

"To the stars through difficulties."

If that ancient saying holds any truth, then I might not be able to reach any of my dreams anytime soon. I have been denying it for the past three and a half years but its true: I haven't been pulling my weight in, at least if only to reach those idealized dreams.

I have just downloaded my grades and I'm about to compute for my GWA. Good luck to me and finishing cum laude.

I hate regrets. There really is no use crying over spilled milk.
Damn.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

2005-12-18T05:49:00.000-08:00

I could not write

2005-12-07T02:48:00.000-08:00

Somehow, because of all that I have written, and because I have felt nothing for them, I have lost the will to write of anything else.
For this reason alone, I want to refuse to write anymore, if I must write for other people.
It does not help that there are but a few people who would appreciate my writing.
I was afraid in the beginning that my editors would be ruthless.
They have not been. Not even close.
If anything, they have been accomodating. However, I think I have not grown in my writing. I think, I have only changed.

I used to write freely.
I do not like the thought of writing assessments on things I care nothing for.

I am supposed to write about the Subic Rape Case.
It is a topic I feel strongly for. The thing, however, is that no one cares for what I feel. People care for detailed and well-drawn out analysis. Something that I can do but do without cause.
I do not care for the details of the case. I care for the countless women who have been oppressed by stronger men. I care for our country, who for fear of expressing sovereignty by refusing help from the americans, loses its sovereignty all together.
No well-drawn out analysis can express why I, like many other Filipinos feel strongly for this case. Feelings cannot be supported by statistics.

Right now I am supposed to be in front of my lap top writing.
I can't.
At least not for tonight.

What a person's got to do

2005-12-01T04:11:00.000-08:00

I have been contemplating on quitting the Collegian these past few days but everytime I'm there in the office and a new article is assigned to me, I feel like I just have to write that one. So I guess I'm going to have to stick it out the rest of the semester even if I know that I am doomed never to be promoted into the Staff Box. I haven't even gotten a decent honorarium. I got higher wages back when i was in Sinag. The experience makes up for it. Especially now that the EIC has sacked his kumpadres and found a near-decent (I hope) Executive Editor. That way I'm assured that my articles don't get into the paper for lack of anything better to lay-out.
I'm actually planning on joining the lay-outing team just so I'd learn how to use Adobe Pagemaker. I assume its not much different from Adobe Photoshop which I take pride in saying, I learned all by myself.

The UP LAE was not difficult.
I used to think that when people say things like "wala yan," and "common sense lang ang kailangan," it was easy for them because they've passed already. Now I know that it should be easy for anyone who reads a lot.
I think the only difficulty I had was with the airconditioner. Yup, me, onion-skinned me. I sat in front of an airconditioner that was turned on, full-blast.

Before I took the LAE, I had my apprehensions. I actually did not want to go through with it. But that was just the slacker in me. I did not want to go through with it because of the trouble. Not because I liked being a lawyer any less. IN fact, my dream of practicing in the province alongside farmers only became more vivid since the murders in tarlac.
I think my parents wouldn't want to pay for 4 more years if only to see me go of to some remote island where I'll be eating off the land of the people I protect.
But then, that's my ideal world.

Now that I'm no longer attached to my team, I hate to admit it but I realized just how much I have missed. I could have been with The Philippine Collegian longer and learned more. Not just of writing but of real politics inside and outside the campus. I've become more sympathetic with the world and everything that goes on outside the basketball court. I actually feel utter grief for seeing a dead person on TV. I used to reserve such feelings for basketball. That being the only thing I ever felt strongly for.

Books
I finished the entire Chronicles of Narnia last week and to top that off, I read Memoirs of a Geisha in just two days. That I did in between classes and homework.
I'm set off to read Baudolino soon but if I still think it boring, I'm going to read Chinese Cinderalla. Ever since I read about the UST guy who finished his first historical fiction at the age of 24, I've become more fascinated with reading historical fiction.
One day I hope I am going to be able to write my ideal book: Middle Child Diaries.
Its going to be about a Middle Child who works his way into the world lonely but not alone.

Anyway, I know it still sounds cheesy but thats just because the story doesn't have a setting yet therefore, no concrete plot.

Well that's about it.

Changing Gears

2005-10-28T17:45:00.000-07:00

I cannot make a decision. I am waiting for the first day when the change takes effect before I make my decision final.
Perhaps I am afraid not to be needed. People need me where I am right now. To not be associated with them feels like outright massacre. Like I always said, it is with the team where I was most significant. TO be without them is not logical. It doesn't make sense to me.

I doubt if my parents would ever understand what it feels to be without a group to belong to.
I doubt if they understand how content I am right now, how at peace I am with myself.
Heck, I doubt if they even know me.

From The Indispensable Calvin and Hobbes

2005-10-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

I made a big decision a little while ago.
I don't remember what it was, which probably goes to show
That many times a simple choice can prove to be essential
Even though it often might appear inconsequential.

I must have been distracted when I left my home because
Left or right I'm sure I went. (I wonder which it was!)
Anyway, I never veered: I walked in that direction
Utterly absorbed, it seems, in quiet introspection

For no reason I can think of, I've wandered far astray.
And that is how I got to where I find myself today.

Live a little

2005-10-15T04:22:00.000-07:00

You've got to give a little
take a little
Sit a spell learn to whittle
Live a little now and then
Unwind take your time l
eave your cares all behind
And see what's around the bend
This life ain't coming 'round again
So give a little take a little
Live a little now and then
In a hurry late for work
Rush and worry but what's it worth
You might earn a rich man's pay
But it won't buy you one more day
You've got to give a little take a little
Sit a spell learn to whittle
Live a little now and then
Unwind take your time leave your cares all behind
And see what's around the bend
This life ain't coming 'round again
So give a little take a little
Live a little now and then
Busy making your weight in gold
But you can't take it when you go
Don't care how high you build your stack
They don't make a hearse with a luggage rack
You've got to give a little take a little
Sit a spell learn to whittle
Live a little now and then
Unwind take your time leave your cares all behind
And see what's around the bend
This life ain't coming 'round again
So give a little take a little
Live a little now and then
This life ain't coming 'round again
So lean back chew the fat
Take a day just to piddle
Live a little now and then

Plath, The Bell Jar

2005-09-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.

One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

2005-09-22T03:50:00.000-07:00

A man cannot afford to be fearful. Terrified at being terrified, he becomes fearless.
-Ninotchka Rosca

2005-09-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

How can you not believe in God?

2005-09-16T05:29:00.000-07:00

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

ENVY

2005-09-02T05:13:00.000-07:00

I don't know which feeling gives me more anxiety.
Feeling ENVY
or
Feeling GUILTY

However happy I feel for the team's having beaten ATENEO, I could not help but feel, or rather wish, that I was part of that.
There are no regrets. I just have to get used to not feeling the same amount of happiness, or the same amount of sadness over games perhaps lost or won.

For a long time, basketball was the only thing that made me feel REAL.
For a long time hence, I will feel like I am indistinct.

To Die For

2005-08-28T06:02:00.000-07:00

Someone once said that the difference between a vision and a cause is that a vision is worth living for, but a cause is worth dying for.

What happened to us?

A vision is in the mind. It is a picture. A dream, if you may. But a cause is something less abstract. It is in the now. It is the breath of life. The purpose. It is not just the end but the all that falls in between.

We have gone to hell and back to win the championship and then here we are, now, so afraid to take the chance.

What are we so afraid of? She asked.

They are afraid of finding out that they might not have what it takes to win a championship. That all they have worked for is just a vision--something that is just in the mind. Something that is like a wisp of smoke that cannot be held.

What does it take?

It takes one to realize that this is both a dream and a cause. Something that surpasses of the level of "to die for."
It is so important that one will go through heaven and hell and back.

The only regret that I have now, is that I am not in the position to die for that cause.

--

2005-08-24T05:43:00.000-07:00

Walk Out the Door Before its Too Late.

2005-08-21T05:22:00.000-07:00

KAHIT MAPUTI NA ANG BUHOK KO By: Sharon Cuneta
Kung tayo'y matanda na
Sana'y di tayo magbago
Kailan man nasaan ma'y
Ito ang pangarap ko
Makuha mo pa kayang
Ako'y hagkan at yakapin
ooooooh
Hanggang pagtanda natin
Nagtatanong lang sa `yo
Ako pa kaya'y ibigin mo
Kung maputi na ang buhok ko
Pagdating ng araw
Ang `yong buhok
Ay puputi na rin
Sabay tayong mangangarap
Nang nakaraan sa `tin
Ang nakalipas ay ibabalik natin
ooooooh
Ipapaalala ko sa `yo
Ang aking pangako
Na ang pag-ibig ko'y laging sa `yo
Kahit maputi na ang buhok ko
Ang nakalipas ay ibabalik natin
hmmmmmm
Ipapaalala ko sa `yo
Ang aking pangako
Na ang pag-ibig ko'y laging sa `yo
Kahit maputi na ang buhok ko
Kahit maputi na ang buhok ko

2005-08-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

At least there are still things to laugh about.

TRUE LOVE

2005-08-18T07:02:00.000-07:00

"True love is the one that made you lose control."

"True love is the soul's recognition of its counterpoint

in another."

"Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love. "

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
Spoken by the character Rose Walker in Sandman #65

I have not experienced love. At least not of the good kind. But I have known a soul-hurt, real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. And it really does leave you crying in the dark.

And then you hope that someone will come along. Someone will make you stop crying. But at that moment when you are about to let go, you know that the world might crumble around you again and that you might be left crying in the dark, so that even when all the signs say that, that person wouldn't, the fear has left a splinter so deeply that you just couldn't bring yourself to be at least a step closer to that kind of pain again.

It happens over and over and over again. Until it happens to be that it has become your own fault why you are so defensive and frightened.

They ask you why you are so distant, cold and unfeeling and all you can do is smile, hoping that the smile says "I'm not," even when your mind is screaming, "Why not?"

Who Should Listen?

A love that was lost,

who should listen to the tales?

If the man is a fool,

who speaks in old cliches?

Wasted words of regret,

Who should listen to the cry

If the soul has been broken

What is left to dignify?

Who should listen to the fears

of the one that's left to fall

If the tears all have fallen

then what's left to save at all?

--Lj

Together we stand. I hope We don't fall.

2005-08-17T05:03:00.000-07:00

I hope we TRUST each other this much.

Predators

2005-08-17T04:54:00.000-07:00

"Sa mundong ito, kung hindi ka matutututong lumamon, ikaw ang lalamunin."

Have I wasted my life looking after myself, taking care not to get hurt?

Its been 20 years of existence and for much of it, since the first time I get hurt, I have learned to be cynical.

Is it really a world of "eat or be eaten"? Or did I create the idea when I first got hurt?

Am I a predator or a prey?

In my constant fear, I think I have hurt people that I hoped not to hurt. When you shy away from people because you might hurt them, is it natural?

I have seen predators who ate their own younglings because it is the natural order of life.

When you run away from predators, it is natural. What of those times when you run away from the people who feed you?

PREDATOR.

The Lonely Joker

2005-08-11T09:01:00.000-07:00

At one point, when you've lived long enough, you learn to live with solitude. Then you learn that nothing else exists but. You may learn to share your life with someone but essentially, you would still be alone.
The difference of consciousness, which is reflected by intention and values, is enough to earn your solitude.
You can be in a crowded room with friends and yet still be alone. You can find someone who is like you, but isn't, really. You talk to her until there is none left to talk about and then you are alone again and that someone would be back to being someone else.

I cry because the world is laughing

I shed the tears deep within

They do not see it

they carry on

These happy faces

All unwittingly involved in

the conspiracy of my

SOLITUDE

And I have thought of whether

I should tell them

Or of whether

They should know

But these happy faces

Are all but unwittingly involved in

the conspiracy of my SOLITUDE

What happens when the 'now' is over? What would I be left with? These people of the present, do I dare call them friends? Perhaps I shall remember them forever. Perhaps because I have nothing and no one else to remember.

I have changed lives, haven't I? But these changes are barely recognizable, barely worth a strand of memory.

So if I should carry on like this, for forty more years, barely living, barely dying, I would sooner or later ask myself why I did not dare make myself worth remembering. In fact, even now, why haven't I?

In this insignificant existence, I have felt more secure, I want to believe. Perhaps it is because when I am unknown and the world is unknowable, I stand only for myself and then it is safe. But what of tomorrow when the nights should grow cold and the strong breeze batters me and I should want to breakdown with no one to see me shattered? Who shall remember that last effort until defeat?

Why is it that it is much, much lonelier when you are alone in a nearly deserted coffee house, watching the few people move uncaringly, than when you are alone in bed, left to wander in your own thoughts?

It is in fact, lonelier to feel alone when you are with someone,

than when you're alone with no one.

When it comes down to it, the loneliness is bourne out of insignificant existence.

If you begin to live as no one, insignificant and indifferent,

Could you still die?

I think not.

I'm Bloggin It

2005-08-09T06:28:00.000-07:00

First time Imma go bloggin. Kick ass time.